I can’t let go

I still have Kola’s certificate of recognition

I still have Kola’s certificate of recognition for his freshman year playing in the Mott orchestra hanging on the side of our refrigerator. I can’t get myself to take it down. He was really proud of that certificate. He hated practicing the viola, but he really did like to play. He loved the class, all of his orchestra friends and even the concerts. Normally after concerts we go out for ice cream to celebrate. His last concert for Mott we didn’t. He was grounded and no matter what, I was sticking to the “no fun and joy” rule while you are grounded. I regret that decision to this very day.

I still have two voicemail messages from Nikolai on my phone. I used to make him call me every single day when he got home from school to let me know he was home, in the house and safe. Sometimes I couldn’t answer my phone at work and he would leave me a message. I treasure these voicemails. I don’t listen to them often and they are both less than 30 seconds long, but I won’t ever delete them. It’s his voice. In one of them he simply says, “hey mom, I’m home.” How ironic that is now. And sometimes, I pretend that it’s actually him calling me from Heaven – his way of letting me know he’s okay.

I cleaned his room a bit several months ago and regretted it the second I made his bed. This isn’t Nikolai. He was a total slob! After that I didn’t touch it. It’s hard to go in there. It still smells like him – for good, bad or otherwise. I mean, he was a boy after all. Right now it sits – unused and empty. The door remains closed with his name still taped up on the outside from when he wrote it out in marker and cut it out to hang up for decoration.

I don’t know what to do with any of this. What I do know is that I’m not doing anything with it right now.

After I cleaned up his room the first time, I literally felt instant despair. I cried for days. It was as if I had erased Nikolai’s existence from that space and I couldn’t bear what I had just done. How could I do that? So for now, I will do nothing with any of this. And that is simply okay. 

Traditions and Holidays

Ah, the holidays – ripe with tradition and joy.

Ah, the holidays – ripe with tradition and joy. And then someone you love dies and the holidays will never be the same. It’s true and I fully acknowledge it. Deep down I always knew the holidays were hard for many people missing loved ones. I just didn’t know I was going to have to live that truth quite so soon.

Many people have suggested we change it up, do something different, go somewhere even for the holidays to get away so as not to be in a familiar place. Break the tradition so the hurt isn’t quite so huge. I’ve read a million articles lately saying the same thing: create a moment of silence at dinner, take a vacation, sing songs or my absolute favorite  – set a place at the table for the missing person. What the actual shit is that?! Yeah, that sounds like a great way to get through the holidays unscathed – let me enjoy my dinner looking at an empty place setting where my child should be sitting. That’s just crap. 

When I asked Daley and Reilly what they wanted to do for Thanksgiving, they both looked at me like I had gone stark raving mad. Daley said, “go to grandma’s of course, like we always do.” You see, to my kids, those traditions weren’t just in place because Nikolai lived, they were in place because we are part of a family. I pressed the boys a little further and they want everything to stay the exact same. They don’t want things to be different. They know it will be hard not having Nikolai with us and we will miss him; however, these traditions are important to them. And, maybe this year, even more important to them.

What I’m hoping is that we embrace these holidays as we always have, with love and joy and family. My hope is that we continue to say Nikolai’s name and remember silly things he did or said. I want to embrace the life he lived and remember all the fun we had during the holidays.

I am not disillusioned. I know there will be many times of sadness as well. Many tears. We may or may not go to Christmas Eve mass because church is hard for us right now and songs evoke emotions that can spiral me. I am hanging his Christmas stocking on our mantel and also a wreath on his grave. This is hard stuff. Will I have to put self-care into full effect for not just me, but Joe and my boys, absolutely. We will need time to decompress and just be. However, we have such an amazing tribe of friends and family who will wrap us up in love this season that I am not worried. And most of all, the four of us have each other. We share a pain no one else can imagine, and also a love. A love of a son and a brother, a core person in our family will be missing, but yet, not really. Kola is always in our hearts and minds and I know that he will surround us in love this holiday season, as he does every single day.

Have faith

Ah, FaceBook memories

Ah, FaceBook memories. One of my most favorite features of FaceBook. Especially now when memories are so important.

One of them that popped up on my feed this morning was this little gem from when Reilly was four years old:

“Tonight at church…
Reilly: What did God say – I can’t hear him?
Me: That’s not God honey, that’s the Priest. He speaks for God.
Reilly: Where is God?
Me: We can’t see him – we just have to believe that he is with us always.
Reilly: I can see him you know. He’s right here.”

This conversation ten years ago made me realize that our children know and see way more than us adults. They haven’t had all these life experiences to jade them yet or to make them question all the things.

I needed to read this today. And, I believe God knew it. He knew that this week, while amazing in its own right, has also been emotionally exhausting for me. He needed to let me know that He is right there next to me, helping me to be strong and help others. This is the path He has chosen for me, so why would I think He wouldn’t help carry me through it?

I need to lean more on God. This is my takeaway today.

Have faith

Ah, FaceBook memories

Ah, FaceBook memories. One of my most favorite features of FaceBook. Especially now when memories are so important.

One of them that popped up on my feed this morning was this little gem from when Reilly was four years old:

“Tonight at church…
Reilly: What did God say – I can’t hear him?
Me: That’s not God honey, that’s the Priest. He speaks for God.
Reilly: Where is God?
Me: We can’t see him – we just have to believe that he is with us always.
Reilly: I can see him you know. He’s right here.”

This conversation ten years ago made me realize that our children know and see way more than us adults. They haven’t had all these life experiences to jade them yet or to make them question all the things.

I needed to read this today. And, I believe God knew it. He knew that this week, while amazing in its own right, has also been emotionally exhausting for me. He needed to let me know that He is right there next to me, helping me to be strong and help others. This is the path He has chosen for me, so why would I think He wouldn’t help carry me through it?

I need to lean more on God. This is my takeaway today.

Kindness

Nikolai liked people

Nikolai liked people. I remember when he was just a toddler and would walk up to any other mom or child in the park or at the library just to say hi. Used to scare me a bit that he would just go to anyone, even strangers. But he didn’t see people as strangers. He was that kid that just wanted to be friends with you. He was kind and loving.

What a different world it might be if we all saw people not as strangers and just reached out to simply say hi💙

Running is good for the soul

Beans ran cross country at Hess Hathaway

Beans ran cross country at Hess for two years. The last time I ran it was with him this past winter. It was a gorgeous day…slight chill but no wind, sun was shining and fresh snow had fallen. We ran 2.5 miles and laughed a lot because we kept slipping. I missed him this morning but I’m pretty sure he ran with me the whole way🦋💙